


Finding warmth on a cold winter eve

by Elenca



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:23:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenca/pseuds/Elenca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short, sweet, sappy sexiness between Faramir and Éowyn in Meduseld, following the War of the Ring and before they are married and dwelling in Ithilien.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding warmth on a cold winter eve

**Author's Note:**

> Just some random fluffy smut I wrote up in skype for some pals and later edited and cleaned up what errors I could see in a quick pass-through~
> 
> I'm grimacing at that 'hand jobs' tag, because while it is accurate... it feels WAY too crude for how I wrote these two.

Even with the fire blazing cheerily in the hearth, Éowyn's chamber in Meduseld felt chilled to Faramir, so accustomed was he to the thick stone walls and spires of his city. The winter winds ripped across the plains of Rohan and Edoras was already coated in a blanket of white; still more fell outside the sealed doors of the great golden hall.

"Are you certain?" he asked, turning to place a soft kiss to Éowyn's cheek when she came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, chin hooking over his shoulder and a curtain of freshly dried spun gold spilling into view.

She hesitated before answering, as though pondering her words carefully. "I believe so, yes," she said, releasing Faramir to step around him and enfold him in her arms once more, this time around his neck. "Somehow, tonight... tonight feels right," she said softly against his lips before closing the distance and kissing him, sweet and chaste.

 "We do not have to," she offered as she drew back from the unresponsive Faramir, eyes soft and loving as she gazed up at him. "I don't... I fear I don't necessarily know the customs of Gondor. Have I been untoward?"

Faramir started to shake his head but stopped and shrugged instead, hands coming to rest on Éowyn's forearms. "I... I'm not certain, myself?" he admitted, the fetching splash of red from the cold deepening with his unease and painting his cheeks a vibrant scarlet. "I've never been affianced before and have never had much use for court gossip. Nor," and here he paused, reaching up to take Éowyn's hands in his own and hold them between their bodies, thumbs stroking across the backs of her knuckles, "nor have I ever had the opportunity to lie with another. I fear you will have to lead me through this, beloved."

Éowyn blinked up at him for a moment then let out a laugh that was suspiciously close to a giggle - nigh unheard of for her. All too soon, it deepened to a heartier laugh and Faramir felt his brows lowering, the humor clearly lost on him.

"And here we are, a right pair," she said through her mirth, "both believing the other able to teach them how to bed another."

Understanding flashed in Faramir’s eyes and he joined her, warm chuckles that blended harmoniously with the ringing of her higher tones. "Indeed," he agreed, "it seems we have _both_ overestimated the experiences of the other."

Éowyn laughed again and brought their hands up, kissing Faramir's fingers before tugging him away from the fire and closer to the turned-down bed. "Surely you at least know the theory?" she asked, amusement written across her features as she coyly looked up at him through her lashes.

"Enough that I believe the two of us may be able to figure things out," Faramir answered, releasing Éowyn’s hands and cupping her cheeks to kiss her again.

She met him gladly, her own hands coming up to mirror his as their lips brushed and sealed, tongues just barely peeking out to tangle together. With a hook of her ankle she had Faramir off balance and spilling with her into the plush bedding, their falls cushioned by heavy down blankets and fleeces spread across the mattress. She swallowed his startled cry in another kiss and shifted to lie more comfortably beneath him, one thigh of each of theirs caught between the other's.

"Éowyn!" Faramir broke away with a laughing gasp as he caught his breath, hands fumbling in the covers to try and lift some of his weight off of her.

"Yes?" she asked coquettishly, hands slipping up to card her fingers through the waves of his hair.

"I love you," he said, humor smoothing into affection seamlessly as he took in the light in her eyes, the glow of laughter on her cheeks. With every day that had passed since the great battle before the Black Gate, weeks of recovery together after each were blessed once more with life by the King and modest courting in the bustle of Minas Tirith, followed by correspondence after she and her brother took their leave and the time spent now in Rohan... Yes, every day, he loved her more, found more to be awed by in her strength and grace and kindness.

She stroked her fingertips across his forehead, smoothing away the hair that had become mussed, and kissed his brow. "And I, you," she returned, leading him down to kiss her again.

Her hands made quick work of the lacings in his tunics, deft fingers spreading the rich fabrics and burrowing below to scrape into the spread of curls dotting his chest. He shrugged out of the garments, no easy task on his hands and knees, and the pair of them worked together to push them over the side of the bed.

She moved next to her sides, tugging free the fastenings on her topmost layer of her dress, and Faramir sat up and back to assist, first helping Éowyn to her knees and lifting the opened article up and away for her before doing the same with the thick shift below. She wet her lips in nervous anticipation, fingers stilling and only barely fighting the urge to cover herself.

Faramir was speechless, enthralled by her beauty, and he could feel his remaining clothing grow confiningly tight as arousal flooded him and his loins awoke more fully.

The silence became too much for Éowyn and she shifted a hand to cover one of the largest scars from her battle at Pelennor, but Faramir caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "Éowyn," he said, voice raw with emotion once he could find it, "you are as lovely as all the stars in the sky, vibrant and bright, more stunning than the glitter of the sunlight across the freshly fallen snows." She tried to duck away self-consciously, embarrassed and awed by the poetic declaration, but Faramir swept a finger beneath her chin to keep her looking up at him. "I love you," he repeated, heart laced with earnest devotion.

"You men of Gondor," she teased lightly, voice only tremblingly slightly as she fell back to a familiar line of talk between them, "so florid and fluid with your words, it is no wonder that your kin can be traced back to Elfkind." She kept her tone as playful as she could, but the truth of how overwhelmed she was by the sudden swelling of love for the man before her leaked through as clearly as the sun's beams cut through the clouds with the arrival of shining light.

They worked together on the laces of his breeches and she pushed him down with a laugh to help Faramir shuck his remaining clothing down his body, his swollen sex springing free once it was cleared by his unders as he held his hips aloft for her.

While she had seen many the man in naught but their skin, few had been aroused and none had she cared to look at for long, yet Faramir bare before her held her transfixed. Distracted, she shimmied her own final pieces down and off, Faramir trying to stay still on to bed to let her look her fill as she worked.

"May I?" she asked, cheeks rosy as she studied the gently curved shaft and thick crown, the smattering of hair below and the full trail that bisected his torso from chest to groin. Even just looking, just thinking about touching and more, she could feel her own belly coiling with desire, slick heat forming in her core.

His accepting nod was jerky, his voice hoarse with his own nerves as he said "If it would please you, but do not feel you must."

Éowyn's eyes twinkled; ever was Faramir courteous, almost to a fault. "I'm curious," she said, drawing Faramir closer and moving both into the puddle of heat that had sunk into the bedding already from the hot irons that had been left within the blankets prior to their arrival. Settling on their knees before one another, Faramir let his hands rest on Éowyn's hips for some form of balance and support as he braced himself.

Of course he had taken himself in hand before, but never had he known the touch of another.

He felt as nervous as he had during his first battle, eager not to disappoint but not truly knowing what to expect, not fully.

Her first touch was gentle, tracing just the pads of her fingertips over the sleek bulbed head, a trail of the thin fluid that had gathered smearing behind her as she moved. "Does it—?" She furrowed her brows, rethinking her question. "What feels—will you show me what you do?"

Breathing heavily already, Faramir only nodded, suspecting his voice would squawk shamefully were he to try to and use it now. He took her hand in one of his own and curled it around the length of his cock, slender fingers mimicking his grip and adjusting until he finally nodded. "And—and stroke," he mumbled, guiding her through the motions until she had matched the tempo he liked best.

Losing himself in the decadent bliss was far too easy and Faramir gave himself over to the glide of her hand, slicked by his own prerelease, as Éowyn continued to pump up and down the length of his erect prick, carefully studying his face and her hand as she worked. She was so intent on her task, so enthralled and enthusiastic, that he could not bring himself to stop her, despite the tension tightening in his gut from the pleasurable waves radiating through him.

Far, far too quickly, he could feel himself hurdling toward to cusp of release, and he tried to tell her so. "Éowyn," he hissed, hand resting on her wrist to still her, "beloved, if you continue, I fear I shall be spent far too soon."

She blinked up at him, eyes wide and gleaming with interest, and he could all but see the wheels turning within her mind before she spoke. "May I?" she asked, as primly and politely as she had requested before.

"What?" Faramir said, voice thick with confusion.

Slowly, as not to push too quickly too soon, Éowyn resumed the motions of her hand. "May I help you find your peak?" she asked, tone serious but expression hungry. "Like this? I would... I think I would like to watch you."

Overwrought by the request, Faramir could only groan and nod sharply before letting his head fall back, one hand reaching up to twist with Éowyn's free one. She twined their fingers together, tightening her grip to match Faramir's when his curled erratically as his breathing lost its normal cadence and fell into a juddering, ragged mess of pants and gasps the longer she kept at it.

He managed one last cry of her name, the sound spilling across his lips on little more than a breath as he found release, streaks of pearl painting across himself and her hand as he sobbed her name and his body jerked with the powerful flood of euphoria.

To Éowyn, Faramir was simply magnificent, throat arched as he cried out and muscles in his torso bunching and releasing in rippling waves with each pulse. She could feel the shaft tense within her hand with each expulsion and marveled at the sense of power she had from bringing Faramir to this point and the love that burned contentedly in her chest from his desire and willingness to share this with her as such.

It spoke volumes about him, though much of it she had already learned for herself in other fashions.

Faramir was truly a man apart and she felt blessed by the Valar for both of them to have been saved and to have found one another.

Faramir was still trembling when he tightened his hand around hers that he held, tugging her nearer with it and sagging against her. "Thank you," he said as Éowyn caught him easily, releasing his hand to wrap both arms around him. It took some maneuvering, but they managed to turn to their sides and lie upon the bed together, foreheads touching while Faramir tried to catch his breath.

"I feel as though I should thank you," she admitted, brushing sweaty hair away.

"I apologize," he said, cheeks flushed with the exertion of release, "I did not imagine that I would not be able to love you properly our first time together."

Éowyn laughed, sweeping the backs of her fingers across the heated skin of his face. "I would not say any way is more suitable than others, particularly when we are teaching one another together, Faramir," she said. "I do not know if 'proper' is any better, but I can show you the same way that you showed me. I assure you, it is certainly nice enough on its own that I shall feel no sorrow."

"It would be a genuine honor, my love," Faramir said, "to learn the chords and songs to make your body sing with pleasure." He stroked a hand down the side of her face, then her neck, and ghosted his fingertips across the swell of her breast, pale curves luminescent in the combination of starlight and fireglow. The chill in the air and her own arousal had pebbled the nipple, dusky flesh begging for attention, and he circled the areole before thumbing across it, palming the weight of her breast as he did so.

He cupped the curve of her breast more fully, marveling at the way it fit into his hand, the softness, the feel of the firm bud as he rolled it with the pad of his thumb. Éowyn gasped at the tease, hands fisting and unfisting slowly with the desire to hold something, and before he could say a word, she was rolling onto her other side, her back flush to his chest.

"This feels more natural to me," she clarified, voice wobbling only the barest amount from her nerves, "rather than your arm coming from the front."

Faramir merely nodded, lips blessing across her neck after he swept the waves of silky gold away to bare her skin to his attentions. Instead of reaching for her breast once again, he stroked his hand up and down the breadth of her hip, ringers tracing nonsense patterns into the lean muscles of her thighs and the soft flesh of her stomach.

Faramir seemed content to focus on her hip until she finally gave him the permission he had been awaiting, taking his hand in hers and leading him down to the juncture of her legs. Together, they stroked across the wiry nest of curls atop the curve of her mound and he sucked in a breath when his fingers first felt the slick folds of her sex, warm and wet with anticipation from all they had done so far.

He wanted to see, wanted...wanted to _taste_ , but that would be for another time, once they were more comfortable and confident in this together. Desire raced through him at the wanton thought, idea shocking even as it appealed so very much. For now, he contented himself in the heat of her body as she led his fingers across her flesh, the way he glided so easily from the honey that was dripping sweetly onto his hand and hers alike.

Carefully, he eased a finger into her body, moaning her name into her neck at how hot and unimaginably snug it felt. She arched into the touch, letting him sink all the way in to the knuckle, and he kissed what skin he could reach. His pulse was roaring in his ears from how intent he had become, wholly absorbed in Éowyn and even the slightest responses she gifted him with as he touched and teased.

He began to pump his wrist, an imitation of what he knew making love to consist of, and she rolled her hips into the thrusts in a perfect mimicry of his pace. Wordlessly she directed him, nudging at his wrist until Faramir removed his hand from within Éowyn, wondering if he had done something wrong.

"That's nice," she explained, smiling shyly at him, "but _this_ is far better." Together they stroked over the top of her slit until he could find the hooded nub there by feel, and it was then that she released him and ceded control of his exploration of her body, just as he had given her he reins to his own before as well.

He stroked and flicked at the small little bud, rolling it beneath his fingers and watching in awe as she bucked and writhed under his touch as though her body were igniting into a blaze of pure sensation and pleasure. Faramir had always been a quick study, and in this he was no different -- making note of what had her crying out the loudest, what spilled a whimper past her lips, what sent her body into twitching spasms of pleasure.

For long moments he experimented and refined his attentions, fingers dancing over her core in symphony with Éowyn's sounds of rapture as he let her lead him as such.

Her hand came up, clutching into his hair as the rolls of her hips increased, and he murmured endearments into her skin as he worked, some poetic and florid and some bluntly honest when skill failed him in the wake of a particularly arousing sigh or moan. He could feel himself starting to rise once more, nestled against her grinding bottom, but he knew there would be other nights, a lifetime of them, and he contented himself instead on bring Éowyn to the precipice and beyond. She was far more important.

"Far-Faramir!" she cried, body giving a powerful lurch, and it was only the ecstasy lacing her following moans that made him aware of what was occurring, kept his fingers working as she finally joined him in release.

She was stunning, lips parted in a silent scream and cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering against her reddened skin as she clenched her eyes tightly in an erratic tempo as bliss settled across her in cresting waves.

Faramir was blessed, that she loved him, that both had found one another, that she wanted to share this with him, that they had a lifetime ahead of them awaiting in Ithilien once they were wed, that he was right here in this moment -- unraveling the love of his life just as she had him, balanced equals in all things. He fought not to choke up at the upswell of emotion, settling for chanting Éowyn's name like a prayer in her ear as she rode through her orgasm, and he marveled at the differences between them -- her own was longer, cresting and falling, and he steadily stroked her through it, intent on continuing until she was done, and she was quaking in his arms by the time she finally bucked her hips away with a sated whimper and whisper of his name.

"That was marvelous," she said with a breathy sigh after the tremors of her body lessened, "you have truly _never_ done that before?"

Faramir laughed softly, shaking his head in a negative before capturing her lips in an indulgent kiss. "Never, beloved," he swore, "though ever would I desire to do so again; you are bewitching, Éowyn, beautiful and captivating beyond all others."

She scoffed lightly and turned in his arms, bringing her body in line with his and ghosting her lips across his own in chaste kisses. "What beauty I have, you have given to me, Faramir, renewed as I have become in you love."

"Then I shall be glad, for I would spend my days loving you, and basking in the joy that we might find together." His smile was bright, as were his eyes, and Éowyn lost herself in the love she could see there, deep and powerful and enduring. Her own eyes drooped, satiation calling her toward slumber, and Faramir let a yawn split his jaw just as she tried to fight one back, spurring her into reciprocating.

"Let us rest," he said, reaching behind himself to draw the blankets across their bodies.

"Like this?" she teased, "bare as babes with no nightclothes between us?"

"We shall keep each other warm," he promised, a playful little smile gracing his lips, "and none shall see but us."

Snuggling into the heat of his embrace, Éowyn tugged the covers up to their shoulders and took one final kiss from her lover, letting her eyes fall shut as a happy sigh escaped her. "Somehow," she jested quietly, "I believe I shall survive."


End file.
